


one time emerson cod wished he wasn't working with childhood sweethearts

by austen



Category: Pushing Daisies
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/austen/pseuds/austen





	one time emerson cod wished he wasn't working with childhood sweethearts

Emerson Cod had just about had enough.

Between the shared glances and giggles between the piemaker and the dead girl, he was inches away from finding an entirely new team to work with. However, as Chuck so delicately put it, "You need Ned to resurrect the dead. Who else is going to speak for them? Besides," she added, freshening up his coffee, "you said it yourself - you're making twice as much money than you did before you found out he had his ability."

The piemaker caught her gaze from behind the counter, and a distracted Chuck, blushing and grinning, continued to pour coffee into an already overflowing cup.

"Alright, alright!" Emerson relented, mostly because he was worried about the liquid scalding his newly pressed pants, and Chuck scurried away to grab some napkins.

"'Least with Olive I didn't have to worry about second-degree burns," he muttered, inching away from the puddle that threatened to spill over the edge of the table.

*

It had _not_ been a good day for Emerson Cod.

For the past four hours, thirty-eight minutes and seventeen seconds, the private investigator had been forced to listen to a potential client ramble on about their dead second cousin's dogsitter's girlfriend or something or other. (He'd lost track after the first two hours and eight minutes.) He had finally taken the case, if only to get the woman to shut up and head on down to the Pie Hole for a slice of their best cherry.

It wasn't until he got to the door of the Pie Hole that he realized - they were closed.

So he trudged on upstairs to Ned's apartment, hoping for leftovers. The apartment that had once belonged to Olive Snook was dark, but the light under Ned's door was shining. Emerson tried the handle, and finding it open, let himself in.

There _were_ leftover pieces of cherry pie, to his delight. He sat down at the kitchen table and began to eat to his heart's content when he overheard the following conversation.

"What if the leather rips, or it's not thick enough - like it's some mutated thin remnant of what the leather used to be? I don't even want to think about it; it's making me dizzy."

"Well, then I'll go out happy."

"Please don't joke about this. You've seen me faint; it's not a very manly behavior."

"You're cute when you're unconscious."

"That's not the point."

The _real_ point was that Emerson Cod had heard enough.

"As a private investigator, I have been endowed with a highly active imagination and the ability to visualize, and right now, you are making me use both simultaneously when I do _not_ want to!" he shouted, fork clattering to the table.

The piemaker and Chuck appeared, both in various stages of undress, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

"How did you get in?" Ned asked.

"The door was open. I was hungry. Couple months ago, you would still be awake and we'd be eating a slice of pie together. Maybe have a nice tall glass of milk on the side. But it looks like you've found some other ways, to, uh, occupy your time," Emerson looked at the ceiling, the floor, the table, his pie - anywhere else but at the two of them. With a resigned sigh, he got to his feet, taking plate and fork.

"I'm taking my pie downstairs and letting you two get back to whatever the hell you were doing - and if you ever mention this to me again, I will strangle you with one of those nasty contraptions you oh-so 'accidentally' told me about before."

"You told him?" Chuck asked incredulously.

The piemaker looked like he wanted to crawl inside the walls.

Emerson just glared at both of them as he walked out with his pie.


End file.
